


Side effects included

by Holo (Nelioe)



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy is not ready for it, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Pre-Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Steve is handing out olive branches like candy on Halloween, Swearing, can be read as, drug intolerance, no real character redemption but heading into that direction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-08-09 18:54:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20123215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelioe/pseuds/Holo
Summary: Knocking someone out with a syringe filled with an unknown sedative might’ve been the only right choice at the time, considering it saved Steve from permanent brain damage. Unfortunately the human body doesn’t handle every sort of medication equally well.





	Side effects included

**Author's Note:**

> Christ, I'm feeling super rusty and like I've forgotten how to handle words. I haven't written anything this long in over a year. But whatever, here goes nothing.
> 
> First time dipping my toe into this fandom, let's see how it goes.

When everything is said and done and the group returns to the Byer’s house, tired, sweaty and yet proud of themselves since their stupid plan to cause a distraction actually worked – it remained immensely stupid in Steve’s opinion, but no one got eaten or hurt, except for him, but that had happened way before their descent into the tunnels. It’s not until they step inside that they realise there is still one more problem to take care of, in form of Max’ douchebag step-brother lying unconscious on the kitchen floor.

“What the hell are we going to do with him?” Steve finds himself wondering. His face hurt, he’s still a little dizzy when he moves too fast and he really just wants a coffee and a nap, not necessarily in that order, but preferably one of those things within the next five minutes. And, oh yeah, he isn’t interested in getting punched again.

“We could just dump him outside,” Lucas suggests with a shrug.

When most of the kids actually seem to consider it, Steve objects. He couldn’t believe he was becoming the voice of reason again this evening.

“Yeah, no, we are not going to do that. It’s cold outside and I mean look at him, he doesn’t even know how to button a shirt.”

“If we got a blanket, though-,“ Mike joins in.

“And,” Steve continues a little louder this time, “I don’t think Mrs. Byers is going to appreciate some random guy lying in her driveway.” _She’s had to deal with enough these past couple of days_, he doesn’t say. That doesn’t seem to be necessary anyway, because the kids look like they understand what he’s trying to say. Small blessings.

Unfortunately this means they still lack the right cause of action.

“Maybe we should just drive him home.” Surprised gazes turn to Max, who’s fast to add: “My parents are going to worry if I’m,” she pauses for second, correcting herself, “if _we_’re not home in the morning.”

It’s a reasonable idea. After all, they couldn’t ensure that Hargrove wouldn’t do something stupid to get Max in trouble once she got home, should they decide to only drop him off. Steve could tell she wasn’t ready to leave the others yet and who would blame her? After a night like this nobody should be alone and especially not with an arsehole with anger issues. Right now, right here were the people who understood what every one of them went through, who were able to reassure her that everything was going to be okay, without it sounding like empty phrases. Max was new to all of this, had just found out the world was a lot bigger and scarier than she was able to imagine, which actually told Steve she needed the support of their little group the most. But Max’ family had just moved to Hawkins and with what little time they had spent together, Steve was merely able guess how her parents would react to cover story coming from him or even Hopper, should they choose to get him involved. Steve knew his parents would’ve lost their shit if the chief of police brought him home and vouched for him, regardless of how great Steve would look in the painted picture – that was of course, if his parents were ever actually home.

So there was really no other choice but to agree, until they got a better feel for the Hargrove/Mayfield household.

While they kids said their goodbye, promising each other to discuss the events of the night first thing tomorrow, Steve drags Hargrove to the car. He was a lot heavier than Steve anticipated, although he should’ve expected it with all the muscles the other guy loved to show off, let alone that his unresponsive body made things harder, since he couldn’t pull his weight.

Inside the kids had agreed on cleaning up the house a little, considering how the noise developed it was probably Dustin’s idea. Just when Steve dumps Hargrove unceremoniously onto the backseat, the headlights of Hopper’s car illuminate the driveway. The chief of police helps Eleven out of the jeep – the poor girl looks dead on her feet – before guiding her to the Byers’ house. As Hopper passes him, he gives Steve a pointed look, clearly saying: _don’t leave before I’ve talked to you_. Figures his beat up face would raise questions.

So their departure gets delayed, luckily not for long. Once Hopper hears the story and assures him to support Steve, should he want to press charges, they are free to leave. If Steve is honest with himself, he just wants to forget the whole thing. Pressing charges just means to be reminded of Hargrove beating him into the ground for a very long time. Let alone that his parents would hear about it and that… nope, a big nope. It was hard to deal with his father’s expectations and disappointment on a regular day. Steve doesn’t need this on his plate on top of it. Steve could already picture it: how dad pretended to be concerned, when in truth he only really cared about how to use the situation to improve his own reputation. Steve definitely wasn’t going to make it this easy for him.

Steve waits until Max hops onto the passenger seat and takes off. The car ride is mostly quiet, save for songs on the radio flooding faintly through the car. After this night Steve doesn’t have the brain capacity anymore to recognise melodies or specific text passages. Everything sounds the same, but at least it stops him from dozing off with the exhaustion creeping deeper into his bones with every passing minute. Which is probably why it takes him a moment to catch up, when Max finally decides to speak.

“He is breathing really weird.”

“Huh?” Steve blurts out, trying to make sense of her words, while he concentrates on the road. His eyes burn with tiredness.

“He sounds a little like my aunt Greta, when she got stung by a wasp once,” there is something in her voice Steve finds himself unable to decipher, turning more urgent with every spoken word.

Steve blinks. “It’s too cold for wasps this time of year,” he replies.

“No shit,” Max hisses.

Steve tries to listen, to figure out what she’s talking about and he obviously not getting. If he strains his hearing hard enough, he detects a strange wheezing noise over the radio. And oh… _OH_!

Steve stops the car abruptly, startling Max and admittedly, also himself. They’re lucky no one else is driving on the road at this time of night or Steve would have another guest on the back seat. Fumbling with the seat belt Steve stumbles out of the car, just to climb in the back two seconds later.

Hargrove still isn’t moving, but now that Steve is closer and the radio no longer drowning out other noises for his ears, he realises the other isn’t exactly breathing _weird_ but rather _struggling_ to breathe.

And Steve? Steve panics, starts shaking Hargrove, gently at first but with more force the longer he remains unresponsive, _as if that would help_. He feels like a complete idiot, mind blank and no calming presence to settle his frantic thoughts, just a wide-eyed kid on the front seat staring at him and her brother, about to be infected by the same sense of horror he was experiencing.

Shit, he needs to fix this. How on earth could he face otherworldly creatures with a bat full of nails, climb into tunnels straight out of a horror movie, be part of half-baked plans come up by _children_ and completely lose it in the face of real-life danger? When he lists these things in his head it seems even more ridiculous.

Steve tries to inhale and exhale slowly, ignoring the laborious whistling in every of Hargrove breaths. An image suddenly pops up in his head. A year prior, before Billy became the reason people got hurt during Basketball practise, one of the guys took an elbow to the temple and didn’t get up. The coach had moved fast, checking if he was alright and then proceeded to roll him onto his side. Once their team member was looked after, Steve had asked the coach why he’d done this, causing the man to look at him sternly: _“To make sure his airways stay clear.”_

He has no idea if it makes sense to copy this action right this moment, but it probably won’t hurt either. So for the second time this night Steve begins to manhandle Hargrove, gets the guy off his back and into a stable side position. What the shaking wasn’t able to accomplish, the change of position achieves right away. Billy coughs weakly and opens his eyes.

Steve is prepared for an onslaught of insults and even a flying fist. None of it happens, instead the other blinks blearily. Despite only a conscious Hargrove being better than an unconscious Hargrove, Steve heaves a sigh of relief. It’s obvious that whatever sedative had been in the syringe Max had plunged into her step-brother’s neck, had caused those side-effects. Or perhaps it’s actually a full-on allergic reaction and that in itself is worrisome, because people died of such shit. And sure, he’s a douche and rearranged Steve’s face tonight, but that doesn’t mean Steve wants him to _die_.

The possible repercussions start to finally sink in. If Hargrove had reacted earlier and more violently to the sedative, they might’ve come back to another corpse in the Byers’ house, just this time a human one. Steve shudders at the thought.

“Change of plan,” he tells Max, “we are going to the hospital right now.”

Max stares at him, eyes still incredibly wide, stopping Steve from getting out of the backseat and sliding behind the steering wheel.

“Billy’s dad doesn’t have a good opinion of hospitals,” she explains to him carefully, voice pregnant with something Steve is unable to grasp.

Even an attempt to decode it is interrupted by Hargrove’s sluggish efforts to heave himself into a sitting position.

“No hospital,” he gasps without any heat in it, more like a matter of fact than a demand.

Gaze wandering between the siblings, Steve frowns.

“Well, I’m sure he will cut you guys some slack, if it saves his son’s life,” he replies, his voice wandering the fine line between passionately and annoyed. Every muscle in Max face hardens with an unknown truth hidden behind them, but Steve has already turned his attention back to the wheezing patient next to him. “Are you sure sitting up is a good idea?”

“Fuck you,” Billy grits his teeth. “I’m not going to a hospital.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m giving you a choice here, _amigo,_” he spits sarcastically. Steve’s so done with this shit. He’s just trying to help! And sure, maybe he’s behaving a little cranky, but he’s fucking exhausted and so tired of fighting his way through every damn second of this godforsaken day!

“Steve,” Max hisses in warning, the same time Billy utters: “Please.” It’s so quiet Steve almost misses it, but the benefit of sitting so close to someone as he and Hargrove are right now, is that he hears every rustling of clothes the slightest movement creates. It couldn’t slip by unnoticed, a tiny piece of vulnerability meant for no one and yet everyone.

This opens a completely new can of worms. For what could be so frightening about a visit to the hospital that Billy says _please_, a word Steve believed until now didn’t even exist in Hargrove’s vocabulary. A guy like him, all bravado and zero regrets, fast with fists and swearing alike, right now dealing with just terrible adverse effects in the best case or with the beginning of an anaphylactic shock in the worst. Billy must’ve considered both options and came to the conclusion that his father learning about a trip to the hospital wasn’t worth the potential gain. Of course, Steve could argue that this was just a hurt ego losing against his kid sister speaking. One thing he’s realised about Hargrove is his wit, however. Billy isn’t stupid, but not book smart like Nancy either. Instead his strength is evaluating people and situations. He’s always known when and where to push Steve to get the desired reactions. Everyone in this car is aware of Hargrove’s state, that it’s most certainly serious and in need of treatment to avoid complications. But Steve is the only one willing to acknowledge it openly, since he’s also the only one who had yet to meet Neil Hargrove.

“Okay,” Steve finally relents.

The remainder of the drive is uneventful. Occasionally Steve glances in the rear-view mirror, making sure Billy hadn’t suddenly died. The reflection of the mirror always presents him grimacing features, speaking of unchanged troubled breathing. Some part of him wants to argue once again for the hospital, but he knows it’s a lost cause.

The exhaustion creeps back into his brain, dismissing unimportant information and choosing to ignore everything besides the road, as long as he doesn’t hear Hargrove choking or Max screaming. Even their bickering turns mainly annoying because the noise scrapes at his strained nerves. The biggest part is filtered out, only sometimes bits and pieces reached his tired mind.

“Quit staring at me.”

“I’m worried.”

“Oh, yeah? Could’ve fooled me.”

“You’re an arsehole.”

“You are the one bothering me.”

“I just want to make sure you don’t fall over and die.” Max should really work on her concerned voice, Steve thinks. All he hears in that moment is: _please fall over and die already_.

“And whose fault would that be?”

“You shouldn’t have hurt my friends!”

“You should’ve come with me like I told you.”

Christ, for someone panting like he’s just run a marathon, he manages to take in surprising amounts of air to keep this argument going.

“Oh my God, just shut the hell up!” Steve yells at both of them.

To his utter astonishment they actually listen, although Steve can’t say for sure if the last sound he heard from Hargrove was an insult in his direction or just another pathetic excuse of an actual inhale.

Steve breathes a sigh of relief by the time they stop at their destination. The cold air would hopefully help him to feel more awake, since his next enemy of the night might turn out to be microsleep. How he’s supposed to get back to his car and drive home without falling asleep is beyond him. Hopper had signalled him to call, once Max and her brother were home and he wanted to be picked up. At this point he might just spend the night at the Byers’ house, though. Sure, it would be awkward with Nancy and Jonathan around, but Steve feels too tired to care about fallen apart relationships, he can still freak out in the morning.

Climbing out of the car while feeling drained is a struggle, getting Hargrove out all the more.

“If there is one scratch on my car, I swear,” Billy hisses, as if just realising he’d spent the whole drive in the backseat of the Camaro. It’s probably supposed to sound threatening and while breathing seems to have become easier again, he isn’t in peak condition to sell it.

Steve rolls his eyes. “_Thank you, Steve, for driving us home in the middle of the night._ Oh, you know, it’s not a problem, I’m glad I could help. _Thank you, Steve, for respecting my wishes._ I mean, you beat me up real good, but I’m not an arsehole. _Thank you for making sure I didn’t die._ You know what? You don’t deserve it, but you’re welcome!” He feigns a conversation, spitting the last part with as much vitriol as he can still scrape together. Which admittedly isn’t a lot, but the quiet of the night luckily helps to convey it anyway.

Involuntarily bracing himself for a punch, assuming Hargrove wasn’t going to let him get away with it, no matter how justified it appears, Steve waits. He doesn’t react in any fashion Steve could’ve anticipated, because once standing upright, his face loses the last of its colour and then Billy pushes away from him to throw up on the sidewalk.

Once again Steve is wide awake – he’s starting to get whiplash from alternating erratically between pure exhaustion and alertness.

“Holy shit! Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital,” Steve hisses a tiny bit hysterical.

“Billy, are you okay?!” Max whispers right next to him, she’s probably the only person on earth, who can put so much emotion into her shocked reaction that it actually feels like she’s screaming her head off.

Hell, Steve wants to scream too, but they have to stay as silent as possible or they risk waking the whole street and answering their parents. He can already imagine their faces when, as he tries to explain what happened: _“You see, Billy showed up while Max and her friends were fighting monsters from another dimension and when Max didn’t want to leave with him, Billy started to beat me up and to save me Max had to stab him with a syringe full of sedatives.”_ That would go so well, _hilarious_, really. Just that it wasn’t hilarious, but actually pretty damn scary, especially if their dad was half as bad and violent as Steve started to assume.

He steadies Billy, who wobbles dangerously on his feet and guids him carefully away from the sick on the ground.

“I’m fine,” Hargrove insists, spitting out right after.

“Alright,” he placates him. It’s perhaps the best to allow him this illusion.

Max looks at him like she’s contemplating knocking Billy out herself, cram him back into the Camaro and drive him to the hospital all by herself. Her courage is admirable.

In the end they did nothing of that sort. Max opens the door to the house as silently as possible and Steve tries to get her brother inside without making too much of a ruckus. It seems someone had expected them however, for a light turns on to their right.

“Last door on the left,” Max tells him quietly and then goes off to greet, whoever had stayed up to wait for them. By the worried sound if it, it’s her mother.

They stumble to Billy’s room without disturbing the quiet of the house, thankfully the Hargroves haven’t completely unpacked yet, so there isn’t a lot of stuff they could walk into, save for the boxes, but those were easily avoided.

Steve doesn’t bother to be gentle when he puts the other on the bed. His eyes begin searching the room, while trying not to get a feel for what kind of person Hargrove is. A room could tell a lot about the people inhabiting it, but Steve has already an impression of what kind of person he’s dealing with, the blooming bruises on his face just one proof out of many. When he finds, what he’s looking for, Steve grabs the trash can and positions within Billy’s reach.

Billy’s piercing blue gaze follows his movements wordlessly. If Steve didn’t know any better, he would say the guy seemed confused by his actions. Whatever damage the sedative is doing in his system causes him to shake like he’s freezing or, Steve guesses, it’s the after-effects of throwing up. Either way, dealing with it looks exhausting, but for whatever reason Hargrove seems unwilling to relax. Surely he wasn’t scared of Steve. He’d proved pretty impressively that Steve didn’t stand a chance against him.

“Uh, how about you lie down? Might feel better if you do,” Steve suggests.

“How about you fuck off already?” Billy snaps back.

“Jesus!” Steve sighs exasperated. “Do you ever get tired of acting like an arsehole all the time?”

“What can I say, you just bring out the worst in me, _King Steve_,” he shrugs, gifting him with a sardonic smile. With him sitting down and trembling it fails to give off the creepy vibe.

“There is good in you?” Steve mocks.

“Guess not,” he replies, smile turning bitter.

A sudden sense of understanding washes over him, wondering how often the same words must’ve been directed at him. As much as he resists admitting it, he _could_ relate. Felt the same way whenever his father’s voice changed, carrying an undertone of disappointment only ever reserved for Steve. Relating with somebody was a problem, especially when the person was Billy Hargrove. He didn’t want to empathise with a violent bully. A shitty home life wasn’t an excuse for terrorising kids and beating people up.

“Well, whatever. I’m tired of this,” he says therefore and turns to leave. Yet he can’t help but stop at the door.

Changing on your own, while running in circles, always experiencing the same shit over and over again, was a battle most people were never going to win. At least as long as someone was on their own. Steve wouldn’t have changed on his own either, he hadn’t cared about the people he hurt, just wanted to remain popular and have a good time. Fuck everyone who wouldn’t play by the rules. It had taken Nancy to want to become a better person and although that relationship hadn’t worked out the way he’d wished for, he was still grateful. Despite losing friends, despite losing his status and despite losing Nancy, he was finally comfortable in his own skin.

The realisation allows him to take a deep breath and be the bigger person – although in this situation he already is and it’s not even be bragging, since it’s simply the truth.

“But if you once again don’t want to go to the hospital, I’ve got an empty guest room you’re welcome to use.”

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” An outburst was to be expected, it stung nevertheless. “I don’t need your fucking pity, just because you decided to play good Samaritan tonight! I ain’t owe you nothing!”

Steve spins around. “Man, not everyone is an arsehole like you! What would be the gain of you owing me, anyway? I don’t need it and I don’t want it. Not everyone is out there waiting to fuck you over, ever thought about that? The offer stands, take it or leave it, I don’t fucking care!”

What the hell would he even do with a person like Billy Hargrove owing him? Maybe if he needed help beating someone up, but that didn’t feel like his style.

Hargrove stares at, baffled and silent, apparently not anticipating such a response at all. Steve nods to himself. He’s said everything he wanted to, so when he turns to leave this time it’s with every intention to call Hopper and leave the oppressing atmosphere of this house behind.

“Harrington,” Billy calls after him, a wrecked small sound. “I…” Steve assumed he was fighting to find the right words, but failed miserably, like someone who wasn’t used to dealing with life in any other way than aggressiveness.

“Don’t hurt your brain,” Steve tells him playfully and steps out of the room without looking back. Right then words weren’t necessary to understand each other.

Just when he closed the door Max rounded the corner, hurrying towards him.

“Crises averted for now,” she lets him know. Glancing at Billy’s room she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, chewing on it worriedly. “How is he?”

“Being a dick,” he says unceremoniously.

“Oh,” Max appears to be pleasantly surprised by the news. “So he’s going to be okay, then.”

Steve cracks a smile. “Yeah, he is.”

He lets Max show him the phone and calls Hopper as quietly as possible, before sneaking out, of course only after hugging Max goodbye. Heading out into the cold air of the night, he figures it’s easier to go and meet Hopper on the way. It would shorten the chief’s drive and keep him warmer than standing around outside.

The last exchange of words with Hargrove made Steve feel strangely lighter. What a weird ass night.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
